


Something Stronger

by ezziesworld (orphan_account)



Series: The Depraved Adventures of Joker and You [7]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Plug, BDSM, Bloodplay, Bondage, Breathplay, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Impact Play, Knifeplay, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Powerplay, Riding Crops, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Spanking, Vibrators, improper use of a tie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ezziesworld
Summary: He's always had a penchant for sadism, and you've always been a sucker for pain.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You, Joker/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Depraved Adventures of Joker and You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696144
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Something Stronger

You supposed you asked for this.

Three weeks prior, after having your arms restrained behind your back with his tie and coming down from the high of being belligerently fucked, you had wistfully said something along the lines of _‘We should try more things like_ that’, It was meant as a witty quip after the fact, but there was a deed seeded truth to it. The clown had quite the penchant for inflicting pain, no matter the scenario. You could call it one of his many _talents,_ and it wasn’t always physical. Although, his ability to break you down near methodically was the special brand of pain you liked most.

Looking back on it now (as though looking back on a fond memory in light of tragedy), you felt you could remember the twinkle of intrigue in his blackened gaze. Or maybe you were imagining it, either way, it didn’t matter now. What mattered _now_ was leveling yourself enough that you could breathe against the mattress’ thin sheets.

Of all the positions, of all the _multitude_ of ways he could have tied you up, he choose what was, in your opinion, the most demeaning. Naked as the day you were born, you balanced the threatening teeter of your torso with your face, pressed sideways into the bed. Your backside was high in the air, your wrists tethered to the outside of either calf, like you were frozen in some erotic iteration of the downward dog pose. You’d never been one for yoga, the strain on your shoulders and the shortness of your breath making you wish you’d somehow picked it up along the way. It would have made things easier, but then again, J wasn’t going for easy.

You felt as though you would have been a bit more content, had he not taken that extra step of wrapping his tie around your face, a makeshift blindfold that somehow made things that much more perilous. You could hear him shuffling about the room, humming a tune under his breath. His insouciant demeanor was unnerving.

Moments before he crouched beside the bed, bringing his ghoulishly painted face level with yours, you caught a glimpse of his weapons of choice; on the cheap folding table where he kept his firearms there was a plethora of toys. Floggers and crops replaced rifles and pistols, grenades became vibrators--- _one of which looked like that of an anal plug. You felt your stomach drop at that_ \---a leather collar sat centerfold, and as your eyes grew wide with consternation, J shushed you.

_“Shh-shh_ , it’ll be _fine,_ doll.” It didn’t sound too genuine, rather someone promising the impossible in the face of death--- _don’t think about it like that,_ you internally scolded yourself---”How’s about....We make some, ah, _rules_. Sound good to you, _sweethear-t?”_

“You’re not one for rules, J.” You countered, although the bite you had added fell short, weakened by the anticipation that coiled in your stomach. Trepidation made you wary, but the concept of the leather crops gave way to curiosity. He read it on your face (ever the observant), and his mouth curled into a minute smile.

“As much as I would love hearing you _scream,_ I want it to be, ah, _good_ for you too, doll. After all, you _prac-tic-ally_ asked for this.” J reached up and began tugging on his tie, loosening it with a contemptuous cock of his head. It made you bubble with rage, the asshole. You weren’t sure which you were more mad at; J, for his ridiculing tone and goading smirk, or at yourself, because you knew he was right.

“ _Now_ \---we can do this the uh, _hard way,”_ A small, wicked giggle escaped him, as though _‘the hard way’_ was a joke by itself, “or, you can _co-oper-ate_ and we can set some ground rules. _What’ll it be?”_

The hard way entailed more than you could handle, you knew that already. Giving J free reign over you in such a compromising position and with an arsenal of erotic weaponry at his fingertips was a _terrible_ idea. He had restraint, but it only counted if he was with a level head---give him a willing victim, and fill him with unbridled arousal and you’ve got yourself a ticking time bomb, one that could very well (definitely, no question about it) push things past your limits.

J had removed his tie, slipping it over his head. You expected him to toss it and work on the buttons of his vest, but instead he shoved it beneath your head, lining it up with your eyes and tightening it.

“J--”

_“Hush._ I asked you a _question,_ doll.” He chided, securing the tie in place before taking a handful of your hair. It wasn’t painful, more a firm grip, tilting your head further so you were cheek to mattress. “You don’t _answer me_ \---I’m gonna _assume_ you uh, want me to do _whatever_ I want with you.”

_Oh, that was a clear threat if you ever heard one,_ you thought.

“Rules.” You huffed out. You couldn’t be certain, but you imagined his expression was not one of glee; for you, he would have rules. It it were up to him, he’d tie you up and fuck you until the next day. He would keep you there, and come back when he felt that carnal hunger bubble inside him---like his _own_ personal toy.

He clicked his tongue, and you flinched.

“Good call, _sweetcheeks.”_

_Red._

_Mercy._

_Green._

_Two taps. Two taps._

You honed in on his movements, the shuffling of what you could only assume were the toys on the table, the nonchalant humming that made your heart hammer against your chest and your stomach to twist. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence, he spoke.

“Y’know, I never saw the _appeal_ in these. _Why use toys_ when I can do better with _my own hands?”_ His tone was light, pondering. You heard him approach, as well as the sound of something thin slicing through the air; you conjured an image of him holding one of the crops, swinging it around by the leather strap at the base, like it was an umbrella and he was dancing in the rain---the steps of his feet added to your vision; whimsical, _giddy._

“Aw, what the _heck_ \---It’s what the lady _wants,_ hmm?”

You swallowed thickly, and then he hit you with it. You yelped, your body cantering forward at the impact. The force of his strike was restrained, but the sting it left on your bare ass was sweltering. It was pinpointed to the single location, so much different than the feel of his palm.

He hummed, as though contemplating. Deciding on whether of not he liked it, and using your reaction as a gauge. Your breath had picked up, forehead pressed hard into the mattress as you waited for his next move.

“I asked you a _question.”_ He spoke. It was different already, the high facetious way of his voice gave way to a low gravel. He was already in it. And you-- _oh, you were definitely in it._ “You _answer me_ when I ask. _Got it?”_

“Y--Yes sir.”

“There’s _hope_ for you yet, doll.” He retorted, almost bitterly.

It was a crop, you were sure of it; the folded leather tip traced the round of your ass, like drawing a circle with a pointer, before grazing your slick cunt. You shivered at the ghostly touch as well as the residual sting of the crop. He was holding himself back, building it up and it made you terrified and exhilarated all at once.

There was a part of you that thrived on his touch, the consensual abuse he doled out so easily it were as though it was a staple in being intimate with him. He enjoyed inflicting pain, and you reveled in it. You still harbored a sliver of fear inside you, however. You don’t think that fear will ever go away, not so long as he was apart of your life---J seemed all too aware of this as well. In fact, he found it amusing (he made no effort to hide it). It occurred to you then why he was doing this at all; J loved watching you squirm, he loved getting a rise out of you, of being the one to make you quiver in equal parts fear and pleasure. What better way to accomplish such an ambitious goal than something like _this?_  
Maybe there was more than a seed of truth in your words, spoken in the hazy state of your mind, like that saying, _‘drunkin’ words are sober thoughts’_ , but the only thing you were intoxicated with was J’s ability to have you writhe. Like an addict, finding the next vice on the market, _something stronger,_ something that will knock you on your ass and say _‘damn, what a rush!’._ He was your drug, you were thoroughly addicted to him, and you were seeking to up the ante.

_Enabler._ The thought rushed to your head when he brought the crop down once more, striking the same spot with an added ounce of force. The sting of it spread further this time, rippling along the plush flesh of your ass and forcing a sharp whine from your throat. Of course, he’s an enabler. Or maybe he was just as addicted as you were, his substance of choice being your cries of pain.

“Oh, _doll_ \---you make the _prettiest little noises,_ y’know that?”

He sounded lost in himself for a brief moment, his hand smoothing over the welts that had formed on your skin. The leather of his glove was cool, but it felt burning against the tumescent flesh. Your heart fluttered in your chest, like what he said was the equivalent of those three forbidden words. He’d never say them---but praise was just as well, in your mind.

“Make some more noises for me, hmm? _Can you do that_ \---can you make daddy _proud_ of his _little slut?”_ His tone took a sharp one-eighty mid sentence, from encouraging to deviant just like that, and you felt mentally whip-lashed.

“Y-Ye--” Not quick enough, he favored his palm over the crop this time, and he didn’t hold back. He smacked the welted skin hard, a sharp scream burst past your lips, your entire body rocking forward to put a strain on your neck. J gave a low growl then, kneading the flesh with a brutal pull, before hitting you once more. Your fingers curled into your calves, biting into the skin above your ankles.

You felt the crops leather tip once more, gliding along your slit teasingly before he dropped it down and whacked the inside of your thigh. Your legs trembled as you gave another cry, and he repeated the action on the opposite side. It was dangerously close to your cunt, but you were too far gone to even care. Each bruising connection of leather and skin sent a wild ripple of goosebumps across your body, drawing a pulsating need to your clit. You wanted to draw your legs together and rub your knees up and down, grace yourself with just a fraction of the friction you yearned for.

And then he was gone. You couldn’t see a thing, your world pitch black but you felt the heat that radiated from his body. He moved away swiftly, in his absence a rush of cool air which pleasantly caressed your backside.

“Nice little _warm-up,_ hmm?” J mused, the clatter of him dropping the crop made you flinch. Your heart stuttered at his words, but you managed a tremulous,

“Yes sir.”

Your ass and thighs were still throbbing from his onslaught, breath shaken as you listened for his voice, his steps, the steadied pace of his own breathing. He was unnervingly quiet, but you could hear him. He sounded distant, rummaging around with the toys on the table.

“So many _options_ \---I don’t know _where_ to begin---oh, hold the phone. _This,”_ He said it as though he were holding it up for you to see. He seemed excited about whatever it was, you felt near nauseous from anxiety. “This looks like _fun.”_

_Fun._ How many times have you heard him use that word with a literal sense? You could count them on one hand. J began humming again, and you were sweating to the point it slicked down your temple. When he did walk back to the bed, he rounded it until he was standing behind you once more. Vulnerable wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you felt in that moment, your heart steadily picking up in your chest as you waited with bated breath. You felt it leap right over it’s steadfast beat as he dropped whatever was in his arms on the mattress. It startled you, and he laughed.

It was almost _genuine,_ like he’d seen something wholesomely funny. There was nothing wholesome about what he had in mind, and certainly nothing about the way you were spread lewdly on the bed rang virtuous. He had to have carried a plethora of the items across the room, the faint jingle of metal against metal captured within earshot as J moved again. You weren’t entirely sure, but it felt as though he had brought a knee upwards, planting it on the edge of the mattress as he sifted through his treasure trove.

“Now--” He began, and then you heard it. A muffled vibration that made your pussy clench in anticipation, “ _Re-mem-ber,_ I wanna hear you _scream._ You got it?”

You nodded against the mattress, distracted with the noise of the vibrator, and he promptly slapped your ass. You seized your words with a stuttering ‘yes sir’, followed shortly with a soft whine. The pain of it was beginning to ebb, like a blooming warmth that enveloped your entire lower half. J gave a dissatisfied huff of breath, smacking the other cheek. It registered harder, your jaw dropping with a sharp cry.

“Yes, daddy!”

_“That’s better.”_

He brought the vibrator in play then, the feel of it smaller than you anticipated, but it packed a punch. He had to have turned it all the way up, gliding the little bullet over your cunt with a teasing touch. J gripped your ass with his free hand, kneading the red mottled skin as he followed your aching slit to the swollen bud of your clit. Once he reached his destination, he pressed down hard. You keened, pulling away at the sudden stimulation.

“Ah, ta-ta, _come back here, doll.”_ He growled, his hand quickly sliding from your lower back to grab hold of your flank. J held you in place, leather clad fingers biting into your side in a way that assured bruises. Your entire frame was quivering, a litany of trembling whimpers slipping past your lips as he held the toy against your clit, keeping it there with a pressure that nearly burned.

The continuous vibrations forced a rising tide inside you, but it felt lacking---you felt incredibly _empty,_ and you came around nothing with a sharp cry of his name. Your waist cantered back, pushing against the vibrator with a wild shudder. Somewhere amidst your bittersweet orgasm you heard him growl, his hand sliding down to once more knead your bruised ass. Then, when the heightened sense of euphoria had died down, he slipped the vibrator back to your hole, before promptly pushing it inside you. You jolted, fingers curling against your legs as you instinctively pressed back against his finger, which followed it until you felt the vibration deep in your core.

“Oh my _god_ \---” You keened, shivering wildly. You felt a damp puddle of drool where your mouth met the sheets, blissfully unaware of the next item on his agenda.

“I almost wish you could _see_ how _wet_ you are, doll... _Dripping_ like a little _whore._ ” He mused, emphatically. He gave a final tug of your flesh, before slapping it harshly. You let out a drawn out whine, your teeth gritting as you absently rocked your hips back. “That’s what you are, hmm? _A little whore_ \---just ready to be _filled up._ Is that what you want, _babygirl?”_

He followed the globe of your ass, before bringing his hand between your thighs. The feel of his leather clad fingers on your clit absolutely divine as he graced you with a set of languid circles.

“Yes--yes, _please_ daddy!”

_God,_ you wished you could see his face; the sensations he gave you were mind numbing, but being able to see him was one of your favorite parts. Maybe it was because you could watch for the tell tale glow of his eyes, when he felt like pushing things past your limit---you didn’t have control over the situation when it came to him, but when you _could_ see him, it made you feel as though you did. You felt lost, your world blackened to the point everything else became heightened; the smell of him lingered heavily on the tie around your face, the sound of his breathing which had since picked up with excitement. His touch magnified to the point you felt every single stitch in his glove, every fleeting graze and every subtle shift of his weight on the mattress.

He opened something; a soft click like a lid on a bottle, and suddenly you felt a cold drizzle onto the cleft of your ass, then he was touching you, sliding his hand over the liquid which you had rightfully guessed as lube. The vibrator was still going strong, and you found it harder to tread through the waves of pleasure as he pressed his thumb against your tight hole. You stiffened, and he gave a low growl, pressing down and threatening to break past the virgin ring of muscle.

“Don’t you worry, _babygirl_ \---you’re gonna get your _fill.”_ It was _wicked_ , dripping from his lips with an edge of a snarl.

You stuttered a complaint, but it lost it’s fire when he pressed on, pushing through until you clamped around him, your voice evening out from a stutter to a high, strangled whine. He didn’t relent, he kept going; thrusting shallowly and gaining depth with each forward passing. It _hurt,_ but somehow that pain ebbed into the glowing warmth that radiated from your backside, and the searing burn of it felt no more painful than the throbbing, dull ache that pulsated beneath your skin. In a movement that was almost too quick to register, he withdrew his thumb in favor of his fore and middle finger, sinking them into the vice grip until he reached his knuckles, the stretch felt jarring.

_“Fuck!_ \--f-fuck--oh my _god_ \--” You absently felt the wet of tears escape your eyes, soaked up by his tie. You were drowning in it; the salacious vibrations that rattled deep in your core, the otherworldly feeling of him stretching you. It overwhelmed you, a debauched concoction of sensations that your body couldn’t register. You thought you might cum again, your lower lip drawn tight between your teeth with a strangled groan, your hips pushing back against him as though seeking more.

_You’ve lost it,_ you absently thought---the pain stirred together so well with your pleasure you were _high_ off it.

He pulled away, and you exhaled sharply at the feeling, of being so full and suddenly having it torn away. J’s breath had picked up again. It was easier to notice when you couldn’t see anything, when you clung to his noises like somehow you’d be able to picture his actions with the sound waves. He moved again, shifting the mattress a bit, and then you felt something else there, something bigger, cold like metal and bulbous in shape.

He brought a hand to your waist, tethering you in place with two taps against your flushed skin. _Two taps._ Your mind felt lagged, scrambling to catch up.

_Two taps was important, answer him---are you okay?_

“Y--Yes. Yes.” You began, and then you promptly breathed out, “Green.”

_“Good girl.”_ It sounded praising with an edge of malice, and then he pushed on; realization struck you at the peak of it’s width, drawing a pained groan from your chest and as soon as the feeling heightened, it dropped, and you felt your walls tighten around it’s mass. It was the anal plug. You remember it being smaller, but the sensation of it _actually inside you_ felt enormous. Before, you felt empty, _now,_ it were as though you’d burst from the pressure.

J gave a small pull, the wail from your throat contorted through your grit teeth. You could feel your arousal seep from your cunt, sliding up the inverted length of your stomach, crawling it’s way across your thighs as you shivered. The vibrator hummed insistently, ratting you to the point you felt it in your bones. He shifted again, and then he was gone, the sound of metal clinking slightly as he rounded the mattress towards your face.

“I think I _get it now,_ babygirl---” He began, sounding thoughtful as he shoved what you could only assume was the collar beneath your head. You gave a weak moan in response, feeling the bite of stiff leather against your neck as he tightened it. “We’re having quite the ah, _blast_ aren’t we?”

Your head was fogged up to the point you couldn’t quite function, restrained and unable to swipe it away, to clear your vision. J gave a low hum, slipping his fingers beneath the collar before standing. It made it feel impossibly tight, digging into your skin to the point you could make out the line of stitching along the circumference. He drew you upwards, and you felt as though your entire world shifted in that jostling movement; you couldn’t catch yourself if you fell, you couldn’t see the look in his eyes, you were completely at his whim. He kept pulling until you had flipped from stomach to back, making contact with the damp sheets with a rushed exhale. The released tension of your neck was eclipsed by the pleasure that continuously rose in your stomach. Your legs were forced upwards, spread wide at the connection of your wrists, your chest heaving through the constant moans and mewls that slipped from your lips. The image of a turtle flipped onto its shell flashed across your mind.

You heard him again; clothes rustling, heavy pants that made your heart hammer against your sternum to the point you felt it would shatter bone. The mattress dipped, you felt wisps of his hair tickle your inner thighs. His hands, now bare and hot, grabbed hold of your thighs to dig nails into flesh, before he brought his mouth down to your cunt.

You gasped, your back arching off the mattress, in turn tugging on your arms, spreading your legs further to the point it ached at the joints. J lapped at your throbbing pussy, tonguing you before messily scrawling over your slit. He nipped the slick folds, before gliding upwards and enveloping your clit with his mangled lips. You hadn’t the means to form a coherent sentence, the combined sensation of everything he had done to you leaving you in a state of stupor.

He sucked on your clit with a brutal force, releasing it to swirl languidly with his tongue, giving a deep growl that breathed magma into the very core of you. You felt as though you’d been struck down with a bolt of undiluted pleasure, startling you with a ripple of ecstasy as you suddenly came. Digging nails into your legs to the point it broke skin, you let out a wavering cry of pleasure, the sense of coming down swept away by the vibrator that still rattled in your pussy. You thought you might cry, your moan breaking down into a stumbling mess of whimpers.

J brought himself over you, his body felt all encompassing with the blindfold on, and then he kissed you. He pressed his chest against yours, the feeling of hot skin rather than the chafe of his vest sending a flutter between your quivering legs---it was inconceivable, your body was crying out for relief, _for mercy,_ but the touch of his skin and the erotic swipe of his tongue sent you into another spiral of desperate arousal.

You could taste yourself on him, kissing him back with a fervor that betrayed the stuttering whines you breathed into his mouth. His large hand weighed heavy on your ribs, thumb absently stroking along the soft skin beneath your breast as he trailed his mouth from yours to the cusp of your jaw. He was everything in that moment; the leaden pressure of his body atop yours, the intoxicating musk of sweat and gasoline that permeated his entire being, the feeling of his hair, ticking your face as he nipped his teeth along the curve of your jaw, downwards. His breath billowed onto your skin with a heavy flow, and it made you swell with something you couldn’t quite place--- _pride?_ That you could make him this excited, without ever pushing himself into your tight heat? That your moans and cries of pain were his own special brand of drug? It was _toxic,_ riddled with ill intent and the desire to tear you apart, but you loved him for it, for wanting you the way he did.

He bit your neck, beneath your jaw where the skin was damp and thin, teeth slicing through the tension until pearls of ruby red pooled at the surface. The deep moan you gave sounded foreign, the pain that came with it eked to the background and replaced with the carnal need for more. J pressed his tongue flat against your neck, licking upwards until he met the lobe of your ear. His hand slid over the minuscule slopes of your ribs to firmly grasp your breast, pinching the hardened bud of your nipple harshly.

Your chest pushed forward as though on instinct, chasing the sharp pain as he twisted the sensitive bud and pulled. As quick as his hand was there, it was gone, dipping down between the heated space of your bodies to touch your cunt. Fingers danced across your throbbing clit, slipping further down to prod at your entrance. His breath was heavy against your ear, absently biting your lobe between his teeth as he pulled the bullet out of you. You shuddered at the sensation, the loss of vibration stirring an empty feeling in your gut, as though it had become a part of you.

“Tell me you want it.” It almost didn’t sound like him; it was all gravel. Spoken so close you could hear the underlining rasp in his voice.

“I w-want it-- _you,_ I want y-you. _Please_ \--p-please, daddy.” You stuttered.

“Please _wha-t?”_ He growled, slipping his fingers inside you and curling them. A lewd moan tumbled from your lips as he pressed hard on your g-spot, “ _Tell me,_ tell me what you want. _Say it.”_

“I w-want your cock-- _ah--please fuck me daddy,_ I want you, _p-please!”_ You were on the verge of tears, absently gyrating your hips to the best of your ability, and when he pulled his hand away you let out a choked sob. Whimpered pleas of _“please daddy”, “I want you so bad”_ spewing from your lips.

J pressed his cock against you then, rubbing the head along your slick folds as he reached up and tore the tie from your face. The room was dim, but it felt blinding as sight came to you in the form of your tear muddled vision. Your chest tightened as you locked eyes with him; _black,_ so black they were nearly inhuman. That animalistic glow that made you tense, kept you on edge as though he would snap any moment. He didn’t say anything, he held the intense connection as he pushed his length inside you, stretching your sore cunt until his hips were flush against your inner thighs. You choked out a moan, suddenly overwhelmed with the pressure of being so filled, J’s lids fluttering for a moment at the sensation.

“Oh, _babygirl_ \---” It sounded _sweet,_ but it was twisted with the low rasp in his voice, “You’re _dripping wet.”_ He started rocking his hips, steadily fucking himself into you but never straying far, as though he never wanted to leave the tight vise of your walls. You couldn’t give a reply, your voice compacted to lewd moans and desperate wails as he steadily picked up. It was divine, pulsing ecstasy through your veins, and you felt the beginnings of another orgasm lick at your heels.

You focused on his face; on the paint that had begun streaking down with sweat and exertion, the ebony depths of his gaze, the way his mouth hung slightly ajar to sound his own exclamations of pleasure---throaty grunts and low growls that rose goosebumps on your skin. His movements grew unremitting, deep steadfast thrusts that had him pushing to the point it ached. He gave a resounding groan, before reaching up and wrapping his fingers around your throat, pushing the collar up to squeeze your neck.

You sucked in a rush of air, your lids slipping shut as he pressed down to the point you couldn’t make a sound. You found yourself in a state of torpor---the pain that riddled your body thrumming like a muffled drum, feeling light and weightless as he fucked you into the mattress, each forward snap of his hips pushing a wave of pleasure through your entire being. Absently, you felt a pain akin to a pinprick on your neck; overgrown nails breaking flesh with his iron hold.

_“C’mon, c’mon---come for your daddy.”_

You did; a strangled moan forced its way through your constricted windpipe, tearing through your stupor in combination to the rush of euphoria that steeped in your bones. You clenched around him, around the plug, and reached your peak as unrestrained tears streaked down your temples. In a brief moment you felt as though you were floating, as though every nerve in your body had shut down and reignited with a jolting pass of electricity. J’s guttural groan was muffled in your ears as he dipped down and smashed his mouth over yours, biting at your lips and delving his tongue past your teeth, like he wanted to devour you whole.

When he pulled away, he brought his hand with him. Air rushed into your lungs, dousing the fire that raged in your chest with a litany of stuttering coughs. He sat straight, still hard and throbbing inside you, and you followed his movements with hazy attention. He had a knife in his hand, for a fleeting moment you thought he might cut you loose---the searing burn in his gaze told you otherwise. He started rolling his waist against you, and you whined at the feeling. It was too much, you were still climbing down from your release, overstimulated and falling apart.

“ _Tell me_ doll--” He began, speaking through his own labored pants as he brought the knife down to your face, trailing the blade along your jawline. You tilted your head back on instinct, “Tell me who you _belong_ to.”

He sounded manic, completely unhinged. You felt fear rise alongside the pleasure, working its way into your core despite the agony of his ministrations. The look in his eyes; it was that of _murderous._ You’d seen it before, and you knew when to keep your distance, let him cleanse himself of blood and demons. Now, you were in the midst of it, _you were the prey._

_Then why don’t you want him to stop?_

“I b-belong to you-- _mmph!_ \--I’m y-yours!”

_You’re playing with fire._

“Let’s make sure you don’t, ah, _forget it._ ” He snarled, following the tendon of your neck, over the collar until the blade pressed against the thin flesh of your sternum. He drew a line downwards, slicing into you so quick you almost didn’t notice, the pain of it catching up with a shudder and a cry. His movements slowed to the point he sat idle, still deep inside you, and you weren’t sure what you wanted more; for him to keep fucking you, or for the relent of clemency.

You could say the word, and he would stop. _Red, mercy,_ they sat at the forefront of your tongue, but you found yourself gritting your teeth as though to keep them trapped inside your mouth.

_You wanted to get burned._

The steel blade was cold like ice as he glided it over towards the valley between your breasts, stopping right above your heart. You were quaking, losing yourself in the depths of his cavernous gaze. He didn’t hesitate, pressing the tip of the knife down hard, piercing the skin and drawing blood to the surface---it was deep, and he pulled it downwards with an agonizingly slow movement, curling his path at the end to form a J.

You were on the verge of blacking out; it was white hot agony, pulling a harrowing scream from your throat as you thrashed around, tugging on the restraints desperately. Had you been of sound mind, you were positive you would have slipped from consciousness, it would have completely broken you, but your mind was lost somewhere in the abyss of residual pleasure that clouded your senses. J was panting now, feral and wild as he clamped a hand down over your neck to hold you in place, dropping his torso and lapping at the fresh laceration.

He dug his fingers into your carotid, whether intentional or not, it made your head light and dizzy, leaving you lost in the shell of your body. He was fucking you again, harder this time, like the blood filled him with a carnal invigoration, the malicious desire to tear you apart piece by piece driving his movements like he was possessed with it. He moaned against your wound, baring his teeth to bite the soft flesh of your breast, bursting blood vessels and bruising on contact.

Suddenly, he tore himself from your chest, sitting straight while keeping his cock buried inside you. Flipping the knife around in his hand, graceful despite the deviant intent that riddled his being (his hands were shaking, he was vibrating with it), he cut the rope around your left wrist first. Your leg dropped to the mattress like it weighed of stone, a flourish of pinpricks climbing up your limbs like a million needles. He proceeded to the right, cutting you free and gracing you with a fleeting moment of relief.

You let out a drawn out exhale, shuddering violently beneath him, raising your hands to touch his face; you needed to ground yourself, to feel him beneath your trepid fingertips. J caught your wrists, shadowing you with his massive form as he pinned them above your head, his long fingers wrapped securely around your arms. His chest pressed firm against yours, irritating the fresh cuts and smearing the blood between your bodies as he kissed you again.

It was slower this time, languid swipes of his tongue along your lower lip, past your teeth and swarming your taste buds with the sharp bite of copper. He breathed fire into you; groans and growls alike, sparking the desire inside you until you had wrapped your legs around him, pushing heels into the small of his back and undulating your hips with a lewd whine. He had stripped himself down completely, the heat that emanated from his lithe frame warming you to the bone. Moments like these were rare; where you could feel the hardness of his hips, thrusting into you with a salacious smack of skin. The sweat that beaded to the surface of his flesh, slicking down his neck and dropping to your own chest.

A sound not unlike that of a moan escaped him; raspy and deep, but it was backed with his own desperate cadence. He pressed his forehead against yours, snapping his hips forward and driving himself deep, the fleeting tenderness of his touch discarded as quick as it had come. He released a wrist in favor of your back, shoving his hand beneath you and dragging his nails down your spine, tearing the skin and eliciting a pained moan from you before grabbing hold of your waist. He raised your hips up, to the point you didn’t feel the damp sheets against your ass, thrusting himself into your tight heat with expeditious movements. You reached out and tethered yourself with a firm grip of his slick shoulder, your own nails digging fiercely into the tensed muscle.

“J--” You keened, high and breathless. “J--- _I’m gonna_ \--ah!--”

“Gonna _come_ again?” He growled, and suddenly he was gripping your hair, winding it around his fist and tugging. He drew you upwards, your fingernails raking at his shoulders as he sat you nearly straight. His braced you in the hard muscle of his forearm, wrapped around your waist with a steady push and pull, moving you with ease. “Do it-- _do it, doll--c’mon.”_

You didn’t know if you could handle it; your body wound tight like a suppressed spring, the only thing keeping you whole being the firm grip he held on you. You felt as though you would shatter completely if you didn’t come, your body crying out for release as you dropped your head to his chest. His skin was scorching, slick with sweat and sticky with your blood. You could feel the rapid pulse of his heart, pounding through his veins and vibrating beneath your lips as you bit his neck. He tasted of sex; salty and hot beneath your tongue. He groaned, a lengthy sound that made you flutter, his hand slipping from your waist to claw at your back, pulling you impossibly close.

You grabbed at each other like feral animals; J tugged on your hair and dropped his mouth to your neck, biting down fiercely and adding to the plethora of bruises and marks that adorned your flesh. It was entirely savage, and you found it to be absolutely thrilling, your nails sinking into him to the point you drew blood. You didn’t register when he moved his hand lower, following the globe of your ass and slipping beneath you; he tugged on the anal plug, before pressing it back in, repeating the motion all the while keeping a steadfast pace.

You saw stars; spasming wildly in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and you scrambled to get a hold on him, resigning yourself to his hair, which you gripped and yanked with a scream of a moan. You could feel it---the unbearable friction of him and the plug grinding together deep inside you, coaxing you to an orgasm that left you completely wrecked. You reached the pinnacle of your pleasure, but he didn’t stop. He was relentless, fucking you right through your orgasm with a vigor that incapacitated you.

The ache of your body had fled, and in it’s stead you were basking in a lethargic state of bliss. Like an outer-body experience, you couldn’t quite comprehend the agony that prodded at your nerves, numb and floating in a pool of euphoric inertia. His feral grunts and groans were far off, distant through the depths of pleasure that muddled your mind. He said your name, he groaned it, and then he held you so tight you felt the grinding of your bones beneath your skin. Like he wanted to crush you in his arms, he pulled you against him and voiced his release with a stuttering growl. His movements were jerky, erratic, and you felt copper rush your mouth---you think you bit your tongue, but there was no pain, just the sharp bite of metal.

You clung to his hair with an absent hold, your face buried in the damp skin of his neck and shoulder. His pulse thrummed like a string pulled taut and released, rapid beneath your lips. He was stroking back stray wisps of your hair, his iron hold loosened to the point you fell limp against his chest, his cock still buried deep inside you. You felt like you were glowing, a warmth that encompassed your entire being.

You would stay there forever, if he would let you.

He held you as you eked back to reality. It was foreign, a gentle hold you didn’t know he could possess. The embrace was like that of a comforting hug, where he cradled you in his arms and dipped his head to your shoulder, lazily kissing along the bites and crescent lacerations on your neck. The pressure deep inside you was growing unbearable, but you hadn’t the mind to voice it---you lost yourself with him, with this man who had the ability to rend your very being apart.

When you came down, it hit hard. Your chest was throbbing, the searing burn of the J carved into your chest agonizing. Every inch of your body was screaming in the throes of it, and you found yourself crying. You weren’t entirely sure why; J had pushed you to your limits before, pain was not a new concept for you, but as you simmered from your nirvana the overwhelming urge to sob rattled your frame, and you let out a choked cry against his neck. Your mind was swimming with an enigma of emotions---hurt, relief, _anguish,_ and yet you felt a twinge of elation somewhere amidst the horde of sensations, as though you were happy you experienced the utter euphoria that you did, that he took you there.

“Hey--” J pulled himself away then, his voice lilted with an odd type of comfort that made your chest tighten. “Look at me-- _hey_ \--open your eyes, doll.” His hand found your cheek, a firm touch to angle your head. He pushed the hair that stuck to your face back, and you forced your eyes to open.

There was color there again, in the depths of his gaze, a minute sliver of brown that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking for it. It was warm, _human._

“J...” You breathed out, your voice hoarse and weak.

“You did so good for me, _babygirl.”_ He still sounded distant, but you found yourself giving a delirious smile in response.

Slowly, he eased you back down to the mattress, your body feeling dense, like gravity was pulling you down with it’s own two hands. J pressed his lips against your collarbone, a wet kiss that trailed down the lengths of your battered torso, following down between your legs. He pressed his tongue flat, gliding upwards and pulling back just shy of your overstimulated clit, repeating the action as he laid a hand against your stomach, keeping you still. You were squirming beneath him, absently tugging his hair and whining, your voice catching in your throat when he pulled on the anal plug. His ministrations were benign, lulling you into a sense of comfort as he eased it out of you. Pressing a final, lingering kiss against your mound, he brought himself back up to your level and took your mouth with his, slipping his tongue along yours and delivering a concoction of your cum and his.

It was bitter and heady, a salty musk that made you shiver. When he pulled away, it clung to your lips and his, connecting you with a thick string of pearly white. You watched him through heavy lids as he languidly licked his lower lip, breaking the connection to let it fall against your chin and neck. There was no placing the expression on his face, a look you had never seen on him; heavy lids, the only smile on his face being the gnarled flesh of his Glasgow grin, his eyes held a type of ardor that made you think of adoration.

_“Good girl.”_ It was just above a whisper, and in that moment you weren’t entirely sure what to say. You wanted to tell him you love him, thank him for making you feel the way he did, but the words never came to the surface. They were blasphemous when it came to him, but you couldn’t deny the aching tug of your heart when he looked at you.

Instead, you asked,

“Will you stay with me?”

He looked struck, his brows knitting together faintly beneath what little paint remained on his face. As though the question was asinine---he never did. You knew by now to expect nothing more, to resign yourself to the cold bed alone. J’s obsidian gaze wandered the angles of your face for a beat, before he slowly brought himself down, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you onto his chest. Your cheek pressed against the hardness of his sternum, and you could hear his heartbeat again. It was slower now, a rhythmic thudding that lured you into a somnolent haze.

“Thank you.” You said softly. J absently squeezed your shoulder. You closed your eyes and smiled.

_“Hush.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request I got over at Tumblr, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing this completely self indulgent piece of work. I don't usually see The Joker as someone who would use sex toys, (if he wants you to hurt, he'll do it with his own two hands, a knife, and maybe something to tie you up with) but it was fun to explore what he _would_ do. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, feedback is so greatly appreciated!


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